Mom – “Sam” Morris
My Mom passed away two years ago this week. It was all such a whirlwind that it is still difficult to believe it happened. She flew to California from Louisiana to visit her sister and sister-in-law, but the next day she was in the emergency room instead of having girl time on the beach.
I flew over after she was in the hospital for a couple of days, thinking that we’d get out of there quickly and I could have some fun with her and my Aunt Judy. It got complicated, so my Dad joined us. Six days after I got there, it was suddenly the end. She knew she was dying as she experienced a harsh new pain that drained the life out of her. Amidst chaos in the room when the doctors and nurses responded to code blue, we spoke words of blessing before she was gone.
Mom couldn’t say much because of the pain. But her few words meant a lot because of the life she lived. In fact, because of the life she lived, she didn’t need to say anything at all. But she did.
“I love everybody.”
I know, those final words don’t seem that unusual. But what is unusual is that everybody—that’s everybody that met her—already knew it without her having to say it. It was her theme song, or the thesis statement to her life. That’s the way she lived and loved.
People who knew her probably think, “I bet she was thinking about me when she said that.”
Mom–most people called her Sam–made everyone feel special. She looked people in the eyes, said their names with genuine endearment and gave a hug that would squeeze away any doubt that they were loved. And she tirelessly served them.
She loved her family and friends. She loved people deeply who didn’t feel lovable. She showed up and loved people when they were hit with a crisis. She loved people who sat in the pews and sang with her on Sunday mornings. She loved people from other countries. She loved the poor and she loved the rich.
There was no doubt that Sam loved everybody. Her last words were nothing new because she had been saying them all her life.
I want to live and die like that. I don’t want my last words to be something that my family has longed to hear, or to be a surprising twist in the plot of my life. I want to live in such a way that it doesn’t matter if I get a chance to say those last words because I’ve already been saying them all my life.
And what better thing to say with my life than, “I love everybody.”
I’m thankful for Mom’s last words because it wasn’t the first time she said them. I heard her say it and watched her live it all her life.
This week when I reflect on my Mom, I’m reminded to live now what I would want to say at the end.
What are you saying now with your life?
How beautiful and so well written. We love you and yours, Fran. Jo Anne and Leslie
Thanks! Hopefully we can get some North Louisiana family time soon!
Just wanted to tell you Mike and I were talking this past week and he said the thing that he missed the most about your mom and she was mom to so many people who want her birth child was that every Sunday she never fail to walk up to him and give him the biggest hug and say I love you that is what might miss the most when he goes to church
Thanks for sharing that, Joyce! She definitely shared her love with those hugs!I miss them too.
I felt I knew your mom fairly well, until after her passing, I have heard stories – that though they didn’t surprise me – they did. The people she helped, truly helped (walked through trouble times with; showed up in difficult situations with; gave counsel) they didn’t forget. And of course, I had no idea – as I am sure most don’t. Times in their lives that they would probably rather forget – there is a bright shining spot, SAM; and now they want to tell someone how special she was to them. “Loving everybody” wasn’t just her last words, it was a “verb” that describes her life. — I want to be a “Sam Morris” as she was the hands and feet of my Jesus.
I think that one of her greatest gifts was showing up for people in their darkest moments with her bright spirit of love. Thanks for sharing that.
Fran, that was so beautiful. Sam would be very proud of you. I don’t know if you ever heard this or not, but one time I did not get a job because of Sam, Pauline and Van. When asked in the interview how I would like to see myself in the future, I immediately thought of them. So immediately popping out of my mouth was that I wanted to be like the ladies at church. The interviewer’s eyes went very wide and I had to explain why. Her eyes went back to normal size, but she did not understand. I left the interview laughing because I did. Very good commentary. .
That’s funny! Mom was one of many great women at South that I am thankful to have as role models!
She was a truly amazing lady. And her hugs were so great! She wrapped you up and squeezed you tight. Her laugh and smile were infectious. I think of her often. And of you and your family. I love you, Fran. I love you, Tanya. I love you, Chuck. I love you, Mort. I love you, Mr. Ray.
Thanks!
Blessings and thanks for sharing and posting! <3
Fran, this is so beautiful and what a wonderful memory you have of your mom…not just her last words, but of her life. I remember at her funeral, I believe it was Clayton Hartline who said, “Sam had a unique way of making whomever she was talking to feel like they were the most special person on earth”, and when he said that I immediately thought, how true that is. She and I share many joyful times at our office parties, and I treasure all of the years I had the privilege of knowing her and sharing moments with her. What a special person she was!
Last November 2011, I demanded some SAM time. I had moved back to Baton Rouge and was in the Library Class. Being in a great studies, as personal as it gets, was not enough for me. So, we met one crispy morning and had coffee. We talked about the 30 years of my stubbling baby Christan years. Your mom, Ruth Wright, and Van kept me together in the first 3-5 years of my new birth into the church. AJ was so angry to me for turning from our childrenhood ‘beliefs’ and joining ‘that church’. It was their support, loving support got me through the beginning. Now, I am blessed with a Christian husband because of the great Christian Women at South, their guidance and prayers for me. Being available is so valuable and your mom was always there. I think only GOD knows how many people your mom loved and loved them like Christ. She has inspired me to be more pleasant, smile at everyone, stay open to people’s needs and LOVE them. AND love them more. I hope I can fill one shoe of hers.
Nancy de Marcay
Sam came to my mom’s funeral. It was a Catholic funeral–A wonderfully long affair where the priest allowed my COC cousin to join and speak encouraging words from Proverbs 31. My mom had a great faith in God and was always loving, understanding and welcoming of those outside her “denomination.” I always thought she and Sam would have been great friends, especially when I looked up and saw your mom in line, prayerfully taking communion with all my Catholic brothers and sisters. I miss them both.
Randy Hayden
Thanks for sharing that memory, Randy. It’s a sweet gift that we had such special moms…both so loving and welcoming.